


Mollcroft Advent Calendar 2014

by Wetislandinthenorthatlantic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Advent Calendar, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Christmas, Fluff and Humor, Mollcroft, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft IS the British Government, Ninja Anthea, Protective Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 11,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2707136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic/pseuds/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes doesn't "do" Christmas but his girlfriend Molly Hooper certainly does. Here is a look at what happens between the two of them in the days leading up to Christmas 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Girlfriends Need a Christmas Present

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters. This work is purely for entertainment.  
> \----  
> Originally posted on Tumblr during December 2014.

#1 - December 1 - Mollcroft Advent Calendar

It was damp, and dreary as Mycroft began his day in the usual way. In the back of his car during his ride to work he scanned the overnight box to see if there were any significant changes in the world.

There were none.

Arriving at his office Mycroft was greeted, as usual, by Anthea. After the standard 15 minute acclimatization time they had their daily morning meeting.

Mycroft was surprised when after delivering his second cup of tea Anthea sat down in the chair on the other side of his desk.

“Yes Anthea? What can I help you with?” Looking up Mycroft gave his PA a frown. 

“Sir, I am taking the liberty of reminding you what day it is.”

“It is the First of December Anthea. I do not believe this day holds any particular significance.” Mycroft looked down his nose at Anthea.

“That is why I am drawing your attention to it.”

“And?”

“You have 24 more shopping days until Christmas.”

“Why should I care? You know full well I don’t do Christmas,” scoffed Mycroft.

“I realize that was true in the past sir, but might I also remind you that this year you have a girlfriend.” Anthea stood her ground.

Taking a deep breath Mycroft glared, “I didn’t buy her anything last year.”

“Last year between when you gave Molly a lift home from Sherlock’s annual Christmas drinks party and Christmas day, the two of you had four coffees, two walks in Regent’s Park and one dinner — all as friends — no formal gift was expected.”

"Exactly my point."

"But then you did spend Christmas texting Molly all day while she was at her Mum’s house …”

“I did not text her “all day’,” snapped Mycroft. 

Swiping her finger then tapping three times Anthea replied, “Your service provider begs to differ.169 texts to Molly’s number from 7pm 24 December to 9pm 26 December.”

“Boxing Day telly was dire last year.” said Mycroft with a humph.

“I am fully aware she didn’t officially become your girlfriend until the last weekend in January after your dirty weekend in Aberdeen. But she currently is your girlfriend,” Anthea tried not to have too smug a look on her face. “And girlfriends expect a Christmas present,” replied Anthea firmly.

“Flowers?”

“Good suggestion sir, but no. Flower’s don’t work for this holiday.”

“Fine. I’ll think of something. How hard can it be?” again Mycroft rolled his eyes.

“Very good sir. I’ll be at my desk if you need me.” Anthea managed to supress her grin until Mycroft’s office door closed behind her


	2. Christmas Cards

#2 -- Dec 2 -- Mollcroft Advent Calendar  
When Mycroft arrived at Molly’s flat on Tuesday Molly was sitting at her dining table busy working on her Christmas cards.

After hanging up his coat Mycroft walked over to Molly and gave her a kiss on her head. “Hello darling. What in the world are you doing?” Mycroft was standing over her with his hands on his hips. 

“Obviously I’m doing my Christmas cards,” scoffed Molly, “I thought you were the smart one.”

“I am the smart one. I understand Christmas cards – why do you have three piles of cards?”

“These cards say Merry Christmas – and they go to my friends who I know celebrate Christmas.” Molly pointed to the first pile.

“Then we have Season’s Greetings —- for my non-Christian friends,” explained Molly while gesturing to the second pile.

“And finally we have cards with no printed greeting but these cute animals in the snow which I will send to people who need a card but I don’t know very well,” smiled Molly as she pointed to the last pile.

Taking a deep breath Mycroft looked at Molly like she was crazy.

“Fine. Whatever. I’ve had a long day and I’m starving. Take-away or go out?”

“Have to be take-away. I’ve still got loads to do,” Molly held up her Christmas card list – all three A4 pages of it. 

Snatching the list of out Molly’s outstretched hand Mycroft looked at the list. It was written in Molly’s neat hand – alphabetical by last name, with the last five years listed along the top with check marks behind the name under each year – most had two check marks.

“The check marks?”

“The years are at the top, obviously, and when I send a card I put a small tick, when I get a card back I put a tick. If I send but don’t receive for three years then I take them off my list. On the last page you will see people who I have added to my list – either they sent me a card last year, so I have added them or I met them over the year and need to add them – I just haven’t added them to my master list yet.” 

Finding his name Mycroft was secretly pleased to find his name was on the master list and not tacked onto the end. He noted a star next to it.

“There are four stars on this list …..” he said with a smirk.

“Extra special cards!” squeaked Molly with a grin as she snatched back her list.

Rolling his eyes Mycroft headed into the kitchen for the take-away menus.

“Oh that reminds me. I did my Christmas cards today too.” Mycroft wondered back in with a handful of menus. Setting them in front of Molly he went over to his coat and pulled out an envelope from the inside pocket.

“Here you go!” Mycroft proudly presented Molly with the envelope that had her name written on the front in Mycroft’s distinctive handwriting.

With a smile on her face Molly sliced the letter open with her letter opener and slid the card out, looked at the front, opened it up and looked at the back.

“This is my Christmas card?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“Seriously someone actually did a painting of the Department of Trade and Industry headquarters with a dusting of snow on it?”

“They even put a little wreath on the front door. It looks quite festive doesn’t it?” 

“Yes. Very festive,” replied Molly with more than a little sarcasm in her voice. 

Opening the card again Molly read aloud, “Wishing you Season’s Greetings from all of us at the Department of Trade and Industry” Mycroft Holmes X”

Molly gave Mycroft a withering look. “But Mycroft you don’t even work for the Department of Trade and Industry.” 

“I know. I just had them send me over box. Last year my cards were from the Department of Education. It keeps my business colleagues on their toes,” replied Mycroft absentmindedly while he sat on the couch looking through the take-away menus.

“Well thank you very much anyway. I especially like the addition of a kiss.”

“Had to put the kiss then I knew which one was for you. None of the others got an X. Thai or Sushi?” 

Getting up from the table with a sigh Molly went over and gave Mycroft a kiss on the cheek and set his card on her bookshelf.

“Sushi,” replied Molly with a small smile.


	3. Lingerie

"Anthea I have made my decision."

Looking up Anthea saw Mycroft standing beside her desk. He was looking ever-so-slightly unsure of himself. 

”After much research into people in my similar situation …”

"Your situation sir?"

"Someone of my gender who needs to purchase a Christmas gift for a person of another gender …."

"You mean you as boyfriend needing to buy Molly, who is your girlfriend, a Christmas present?"

Mycroft winced, “Yes. Must you use that word? I am hardly a boy. If I may continue …”

Anthea gave a slight nod, more than a little worried where this was going. 

"As I was saying, I have decided that lingerie will make an excellent Christmas present for Miss Hooper." 

"Very well sir. If you think that is appropriate."

"Yes. Most appropriate. If you will be so good as to pick out something you think I will like, then this whole gift issue will be finished. Thank you Anthea I’m off to my 11 o’clock." 

And with that Mycroft Holmes put on his coat and scarf and left his office — leaving Anthea with a shocked look on her face. 

//

Anthea was preparing briefing notes for tomorrow’s meetings when she heard a muffled cry from Mycroft’s office. Seconds later his office door burst open and he flew out. 

He had a look of utter horror on his face. 

"What is gods name is that?" sputtered Mycroft while pointing emphatically towards his office. 

Anthea calmly answered, “It’s Molly’s Christmas present.”

"No. It. Is. Not." Mycroft swallowed hard, his breathing laboured. 

"You told me to pick out something you would like,” replied Anthea simply.

"I can assure you, that in the dove blue box on my desk is the most exquisite piece of lingerie I have ever seen,” hissed Mycroft.

“Might I remind you Anthea that Molly feeds stray cats. Twice a week during her lunch break she visits the paediatric oncology ward and plays Lego with dying children. She knows the favourite biscuit type of at least a dozen homeless people.”

Mycroft took a deep breath and closed his eyes trying to blank out the image of Molly in the garment that was currently lying on his desk. 

“She is far too delicate and pure to ever, ever wear the likes of that …” once again swallowing hard Mycroft stuttered. “That …that… is only suitable for a woman who charges £500 per hour for the pleasure of seeing her in it.”

“I need some air,” panted Mycroft as he grabbed his coat and stumbled out of his office.

With a smirk on her face Anthea retrieved the box from Mycroft’s office and put it in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet for safe keeping.


	4. Hello Kitty!

“Ha ha Anthea, very funny!” shouted Mycroft only minutes after entering his office. 

Anthea was sitting at her desk and trying to hold back a smile when her boss came striding out of his office holding an open box with white tissue paper draping over the sides.

“You are not honestly suggesting I give this to Molly for her Christmas present.” Mycroft unceremoniously dropped the box on Anthea’s desk in front of her.

“Sir at 2:17am this morning via text you instructed me to purchase sleepwear that Molly would like.

Anthea managed to not even crack the smallest grin as she watched her boss seething in front of her.

“Look at me,” Mycroft was nearly, but not quite, shouting. “I am a very powerful middle-aged man. I have a meeting with the Prime Minister in half an hour.” 

“I can not give my girlfriend a pair of flannel Hello Kitty pyjamas for Christmas,” Mycroft took a deep breath. “No matter how much she would love them or how unbelievably cute she would look in them.”

Trying to keep a neutral expression on her face was almost killing Anthea.

“You are just tormenting me now aren’t you Anthea? You are enjoying watching me flap about like a fish out of water,” Mycroft said in a huff while storming back into his office.

“Occasionally my job does provide me with a few bright spots, sir,” replied Anthea under her breath as she refolded the pyjamas and put the lid back on the box.


	5. St. Bart's X-mas Party

It was Friday evening and Mycroft was working late. Molly was going straight from work to her department Christmas party, being held in a pub near St. Bart’s so there was no need to rush home tonight. He would text her later to see if she wanted him to come over to her flat. Or he would just go home and have a quiet night with a good book. 

Although Mycroft knew he shouldn’t, he had requested access to the CCTV feeds from the pub where the party was being held. Mycroft actually had no intention of checking up on Molly - he actually did trust her, it was just the rest of the world he had issues with, especially the males of the world.

At 8pm, after finishing the food that had been brought up from the canteen for him he decided to have a quick look at the CCTV feed just to make sure everything was all right before he went back to work.

The pub was packed and it took Mycroft a few minutes to find the Pathology Department party. Eventually they were spotted, all huddled around two big tables at the back. Adjusting the video feeds, Mycroft soon found Molly. A smile crept over his face. He couldn’t help it. Every time he saw Molly, either in real life or via CCTV Mycroft smiled.

However, he stopped smiling once he saw who was sitting next to Molly. It was Arthur. Mycroft let out a groan. Arthur was not a member of the Pathology Department but a cardiology resident who happened to spend an inordinate amount of time in Molly’s lab.

Counting the number of glasses on the table, Mycroft could tell Molly was on her second drink and Arthur his fourth. Suddenly Mycroft’s attention was drawn to Molly’s hand that was tapping on the table.

After intently watching Molly’s hand for a minute or so, Mycroft grabbed his coat and flew out of his office without even turning off his computer.

At exactly 8:37pm, the British Government crashed the St. Bart’s Pathology Christmas party.

Mycroft managed to get himself a drink from the bar without Molly seeing him and then slowly made his towards her, stalking Arthur like a predatory cat.

Eyeing the table, he could see that Molly was now on drink three, Arthur on his fifth. The rational side of his brain reminded Mycroft that soon it wouldn’t matter what Arthur tried to do with Molly; there was no way he could perform and would probably be spending a fair bit of the evening throwing up somewhere. That cheered Mycroft up more than a little bit.

Slowly Mycroft walked up to the table. When Molly saw him, a look of utter bliss came over her. It warmed Mycroft’s heart – he really did have nothing to worry about – but still he was here to do some mate claiming and let Arthur know once and for all to stay away from his Molly.

“Mycroft! What are you doing here? I thought you had to work?” Molly swayed a little bit as she got up and threw her arms around him. Ignoring how much he detested public displays of affection, Mycroft made sure Arthur was looking before he gently cupped Molly’s face and kissed her square on the lips.

“I finished work earlier than I thought so decided to stop by to see if you were still here.” Mycroft tried to look convincing.

Molly let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“I don’t believe we have met. I’m Mycroft Holmes.” He squared his shoulders and was holding his hand out to Arthur.

“Oh hi. I’m Arthur. I’m a Cardiology resident. I just like the Pathology Department that’s why I’m here.”

“Arthur, I don’t believe I asked you why you are here. Do you feel that you need to explain yourself to me?” Mycroft stared pointedly at Arthur.

“No. No. It’s just … I …. I … I didn’t know Molly had a boyfriend.” Arthur looked more than a little bit nervous.

Mycroft just smiled at Arthur and then turned to Molly, “Darling, can I get you another drink?”

As soon as Arthur took the hint and moved to the other table, Mycroft took the vacated seat next to Molly. After Molly finished her drink, the two said their goodbyes and left the pub.

Outside on the pavement Mycroft turned to Molly with a stern look on his face, “Where did you learn Morse code?”

“What took you so bloody long?” came Molly’s quick retort. “I had to put up with him for nearly two hours!”

“I guess the magic has worn off.” Molly sighed, and continued teasingly, “You used to be far more attentive. I remember a time when if another man so much as stood too close me on the Tube, he had his Oyster Card balance deleted by the time he exited at the next station.” Molly said with a wistful sigh and a cheeky grin.

By now, Mycroft had tucked Molly’s hand under his arm and they were walking the short distance to his car. “I beg your forgiveness. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” asked Mycroft with mock seriousness.

Reaching over with her right hand Molly began tapping on the back of Mycroft’s hand. He looked over at her, hardly able to contain his shock, “Your wish is my command,” he whispered in Molly’s ear.

That night, Mycroft found out just how proficient Molly was in Morse Code.Her fingers danced gracefully on his bare back as she lay beneath him. Her soft fingertips tapping out the words and feelings they both felt about each other. In turn, his own hands skimmed and transmitted his longing and desire on the skin of her thighs. Each responding with soft sighs and moans long into the night.


	6. Decorating the House

Mycroft rolled over and woke up when his arm, which he was fully intending to wrap around Molly instead hit the bed. “Molly,” he called out in a gruff voice; he was still half asleep. “Why are you not in bed?”

Coming back into the bedroom with her notebook and pen in hand Molly looked at Mycroft still snuggled up in bed and rolled her eyes. He had slept through her showering, dressing AND eating breakfast. 

“We have work to do. Can’t stay in bed all day sleepyhead!” Molly gave Mycroft a big smile. 

Sometimes he really hated how chipper she was in the mornings. 

Mycroft let out a groan in response. “The South African elections aren’t until Tuesday. The price of crude oil for the next six months has been signed off and, I am not needed on the NATO conference call until 2pm. Come back to bed. Now.” Mycroft had issued an order not a request.

“Suit yourself. But I’m going to hang my lights now, whether you are there to hold the ladder or not.” 

Molly left the bedroom with a purposeful look on her face as she made more notes in her notebook. “Humm. I think I need to go out to get a few more feet of silver garland,”she muttered to herself. 

Mycroft groaned, “You live alone and I hate Christmas. Why are you decorating your house?”

There are no response from the other room.

“Molly! MOLLY! You had better not have climbed up that ladder on your own,” Mycroft flung the covers off the bed and headed into the living room.


	7. Mycroft's Gift

Anthea was already in the back of Mycroft’s car as it pulled up to his house. A little over an hour before, just as Molly and Mycroft had been sitting down to breakfast, the alert about the crisis had come through.

Once the car was en route to Whitehall, Anthea handed over the briefing notes, “I hope Molly isn’t too disappointed with your being called in. What festive things did she have on your agenda today?” asked Anthea trying to hide a small smile.

Snorting Mycroft replied absentmindedly while skimming the notes, “Surprisingly nothing was required of me today. Molly is heading home to get something called an ‘Egg Nog Latte’?” Mycroft grimaced, “and wrap Christmas presents.”

Anthea simply nodded and the two continued in silence into Central London.

//

It was 43 minutes into the conference call when Mycroft, stared hard at Anthea who was sitting across his desk from him, hit the mute button and asked, “Do you think Molly has gotten me a Christmas present?”

The look on Anthea’s face was a mixture of complete shock and utter disbelief. “Sir, you have just put two generals, three admirals, one prime minister, one chancellor and two presidents on mute. I would suggest that this is not the time to discuss if Molly has gotten you a Christmas present.”

Mycroft was undeterred, “Because there would be no reason for me not to be with her when she was wrapping presents unless she was wrapping up something for me.”

“This is true. Now back to the phone call …”

“So it is true that she has gotten be something?”

“Sir, I don’t know. I would assume that she has. The phone call …” Anthea added sternly.

Mycroft begrudgingly unmuted the call. Seven minutes later, having shouted three times and sent one president away to get his facts straight Mycroft hit the mute button again.

“What do you think she got me?” Mycroft was doodling on a piece of paper.

“I have no idea sir,” sighed Anthea.

“Do you think I will like it?” Mycroft wondered aloud.

“Um. Yes. She is your girlfriend and she is very attentive so I’m sure she will have picked out something that you didn’t even know that you wanted.”

Mycroft’s eyes darted around the room. Now he looked worried, “But what if I hate it?”

“SIR!” Anthea’s eyes were wide as saucers as she pointed at the phone. Mycroft rolled his eyes, hit the unmute button again, shouted for two minutes straight and announced that he was going to refuse to speak again until the military men all stopped being so childish and put together a real plan. He hit the mute button again.

“Really, Anthea, what happens if I hate it? Should I be honest or should I tell her I like it even if I don’t?” Mycroft asked nervously.

“I am sure you won’t hate it,” replied Anthea gently, “whatever it may be.”

“But I might. Ask her what my present is so I can prepare myself it if is horrible.”

“No.” replied Anthea.

“Please?” someone was on the verge of whining.

“No! Now pay attention to this call or you know full well there will be no Christmas this year,” threatened Anthea.

With a humph Mycroft unmuted the phone and returned his attention to the call. After the news about the current airstrikes, finally, the military men formulated a plan that didn’t seem to be drawn up by petulant children.

Mycroft once again joined in the conversation in a rational and reasonable manner.

Five hours and 17 minutes later the world was no longer on the brink of war. Mycroft and Anthea were back in his car heading home after a job well done.

//

After a long hot bath and changing into her pyjamas Anthea poured herself a large glass of white wine and called Molly to discuss Christmas presents – just in case.


	8. Anthea Is In Hiding

Mycroft didn’t realise something was wrong until 4:57pm. 

Had he been paying attention Mycroft would have noticed that after their morning meeting Anthea’s assistant had brought his second cup of tea in to him. 

The fact that today all of his pre-meeting briefing notes had been emailed, not handed to him by Anthea, had been missed entirely. 

It was only when Anthea texted him instead of just popping her head round the door to see if she should have food brought in or if he was going to be dining with Molly, that Mycroft realised that he had been without his PA all day. 

So at 4:57p Mycroft walked up three flights of stairs, through the Accounts Payable Department to the locked Stationary Cupboard in the back corner, picked the lock, and found Anthea working away while sitting on an old step stool. 

With a stern look on his face Mycroft held open the door for Anthea. “Nice try. My office. Now.”

//

Sitting across the desk from Mycroft Anthea tried to keep a blank expression. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to keep it up for long. 

"How bad is it?"

"What are you talking about sir?"

"My Christmas present from Molly."

"And why do you think I know anything about your Christmas present from Molly?" Anthea was stalling. 

"Self-preservation. Quit stalling."

"I don’t understand. Self-preservation?"

"You and your boyfriend are flying to the Carribbean for some much deserved R&R between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. You know full well if something happens, Molly’s feelings get hurt and she -god forbid- storms off in a huff leaving me alone, I will be starting at one end of my liqueur cabinet and working my way through it. And when I finish a bottle I’m going to be on the phone to you. Yelling if you are lucky. Crying if you are unlucky." 

Anthea swallowed hard. 

"You know this so last night you rang Molly and asked about my present."

"I did." Anthea replied guiltily.

"Finally we are getting somewhere." Mycroft leaned back in his chair with a smug look on his face. 

"I am not an ogre. You do not need to tell me exactly what my gift is."

Anthea looked relieved. 

"But I do want to know how bad it is. Tell me. Will I hate it?"

Taking a deep breath Anthea replied, 

“Absolutly not sir. You won’t hate it at all. You will love it.”

Mycroft frowned. 

"Impossible. If I want something I buy it myself. And if I can buy it, Molly can’t afford it. How could she get me a gift I will love?"

There was nothing Anthea could do but shrug. “It is thoughtful, playful, practical and just plain sweet. Molly is obviously very attentive and cares for you very much. You are a lucky man.” Anthea was smiling. 

Looking uncomfortable Mycroft asked through gritted teeth, “how much longer do I have?” 

"Sixteen days as of tomorrow."

Mycroft rubbed his face with both his hands. Then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

"Clear tomorrow’s schedule Anthea," Mycroft said with an air of determination. "I’m going shopping."


	9. New Bond Street

"Good heavens, what are all these people doing? Why aren’t they at work?" Mycroft and Anthea were in the back of his car as it turned into New Bond Street. "No wonder the economy is in a mess."

Anthea just rolled her eyes. The car slowly came to a stop.

Taking a deep breath Mycroft looked at Anthea. “Wish me luck,” he said with his hand resting on the door handle.

"Good luck sir. Call me if you need me," Anthea gave Mycroft a reassuring smile.

Then Mycroft got out of the car and embarked on his shopping expedition.

//

Four hours and 37 minutes later Mycroft walked into his office. His cheeks and ears were pink from cold. He was fumbling in his trouser pocket for a hankie for his running nose.

As he stood front of her desk Anthea couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry for her boss.

"I’m cold. I had one of those ‘egg nog latte’ concoctions. It was vile.”

After blowing his nose Mycroft continued, “I had no success. Nothing felt right. It was all too flippant or boring.”

Mycroft spent the rest of the day sulking in his office.


	10. Radio Times

Only one small side table lamp was on in Molly’s living room. The rest of the light in the room was coming from the twinkling lights on her Christmas tree. 

As Mycroft came out of the kitchen holding two glasses of white wine he paused.

Molly was curled up on the sofa with Toby. She was intently reading the Radio Times while absentmindedly chewing on the end of a yellow highlighter. At least a dozen holiday cards were being proudly displayed on her bookshelf. Due to a lit scented candle on the table the flat even smelled festive. And to top it all off, in the background Molly’s Christmas carol playlist was quietly playing.

Handing Molly one of the glasses Mycroft took up the place on the opposite end of the sofa.   
Molly readjusted herself so her feet were squished under Mycroft’s thigh. “I thought people stopped highlighting the Radio Times once they turned 12,” said Mycroft with a smirk.

Molly shot Mycroft a mock look of horror. “You have to highlight or you might miss the good stuff! Don’t worry,” she leaned over and picked up a green highlighter from the coffee table and held it out to Mycroft, “Here. You can use the green one.” 

Mycroft took the highlighter from Molly using only two fingers while grimacing like he was touching something disgusting.

“Not highlighted, not watching. This includes the Queen and any James Bond film,” replied Molly laughing.

“You take Christmas far too seriously my dear,” replied Mycroft sternly.

“Yes, I do scrooge. Yes I do.” Molly turned her attention back to the Radio Times.

Taking a sip of wine Mycroft’s eyes fell on the Christmas tree and the small pile of presents beneath it.

“Yours is not there,” Molly said with a smirk not even bothering to look up.

Mycroft looked at Molly with a quizzical look on his face.

“Your present. It’s not under the tree. I can’t risk it. You will either take one look and deduce instantly what it is or you will secretly open it up when I’m not looking. I bet you and Sherlock never had a surprise on Christmas morning,” Molly was busy highlighting more things in the Radio Times as she spoke.

“Touché,” replied Mycroft with a soft smile. ”Looking back I’m sure we must have driven Mummy crazy.”

“I’m sure Christmas was the least of your mother’s worries,” snorted Molly quietly.

“You’re probably right,” replied Mycroft taking another sip of wine. Turning his head Mycroft stared at Molly. With a deep sigh Mycroft wondered just how he had managed to find himself part of this world. However it had happened, he was sure of one thing …at this moment there was no where else he would rather be.

“I don’t have your present yet,” Mycroft said softly.

“You’re very clever. I have no doubt you will come up with something,” Molly still didn’t look up from the Radio Times. “I’m not worried.”

“I am.”

“Why?” Molly asked with a smile on her lips. Mycroft’s heart melted as the Christmas lights made Molly’s eyes twinkle.

“Because when I look at you …” Mycroft frowned, “it looks like the only thing you want is me. And I am not sitting under that tree for the next two weeks.”

“See I knew you were clever!” Molly started to giggle. “Does this mean I get to open my present early?”

“That depends,” Mycroft now had a serious look on his face, “Have you been good or naughty this year?”

“Oh, very naughty,” responded Molly trying not to laugh when Mycroft seductively moved across the couch towards her. She then put up a poor protest as Mycroft took the Radio Times away from her and unceremoniously tossed it onto the coffee table. 

With a wicked grin on his face Mycroft whispered in Molly’s ear, “You are in luck young lady. Santa says that’s the right answer.”


	11. Tea with Sherlock

Sherlock handed Mycroft a China cup filled with Earle Grey, lemon and sugar -no milk and then settled back into his chair with a smile on his face. 

“So.”

Mycroft simply raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of tea. He was sitting in John’s chair across from Sherlock. 

“It’s nearly Christmas.”

Mycroft took another sip of tea, “Yes Sherlock. Happens like clock work this time every year as a matter of fact.”

“But this time it’s different.”

“Do get on with it Sherlock. You are being tedious." 

"It’s Christmas and for the first time in … ever … you have a girlfriend.”

“What a keen sense of the obvious. Hardly the standard I would expect of the world’s only consulting detective,” Mycroft tutted. 

“You were shopping earlier this week and by the look of your shoes it was a long, and dare I say, fruitless search,” Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “Not only do you not have her gift you have no idea what to get her.”

“It’s all in hand brother dear. Hardly something you need to concern yourself with,” Mycroft tried to look convincing. 

“Umm. I’m not so sure. You have been losing sleep over it. The usual boyfriend gifts are hardly suitable -probably because you are such a rubbish boyfriend.”

Taking a deep breath Mycroft scowled and took another sip of tea. 

“Humm. Yes. Tricky. Very tricky indeed,” Sherlock steepled his fingers under his chin. “The wrong first Christmas present can easily turn the whole thing sour -very quickly.”

“Ah, the famous sibling support I have come to rely on,” Mycroft’s words were dripping with sarcasm. 

“Well, the good news is, if you make Molly cry at least I’ll get my Christmas wish.”

“What are you on about?” Mycroft frowned again. 

“Molly devastated and crying herself to sleep on Christmas Eve because her boyfriend bought her something ridiculous. When this happens, you get another black mark against your name. Yet another reason to despise you.” Sherlock flashed a huge smile. 

“That’s quite enough. I’m leaving.” Mycroft got up and put his coat on. 

“At some point Mycroft you will realise that you are not cut out to be a boyfriend and will end this charade,” Sherlock toasted Mycroft with his tea cup before taking a sip.

Mycroft’s only response was to slam the door behind him.


	12. Sherlock's Christmas Party

Mycroft climbed the stairs to Sherlock’s flat two at a time. Due to the annoying incident with air traffic control earlier in the day, he was very late.

In Sherlock’s flat, all of “the regulars” were assembled for Sherlock’s annual Christmas drinks party. Except, Molly who seemed to be missing.

“Oh, I expect you are looking for Molly,” said Mrs Hudson to Mycroft while patting the seat next to her.

“Yes. Where is she?” he took the glass of red wine handed to him by John and sat down.

“Why she left, dear. Too many bad memories of these parties. Sherlock always says something horrible to her. Remember last year?”

How could Mycroft forget? He had taken pity on Molly and insisted on giving Molly a lift home as a means of escape from his brothers biting comments. She had cried all the way home and for a further 45 minutes once inside her flat. Mycroft had to text Anthea for emergency advice having never encountered a weeping woman outside of a war-zone before.

“This year she said she was leaving early -while the atmosphere was still pleasant. Pity. What with it being your anniversary and all.” Mrs Hudson patted Mycroft’s knee and gave him a sympathetic look.

“It’s not our anniversary, Mrs Hudson.” Sherlock, playing Christmas carols on his violin, seamlessly seguewayed into a Scottish jig earning a stern look from his brother.

“But I thought…” began Mrs Hudson, who was then quickly steered onto a different path of conversation by Mycroft.

Three texts arrived which Mycroft didn’t notice until he stepped into the kitchen to re-fill the landlady’s glass.

The first text contained a photo of Molly’s front door.

Next was a photo of her coat dropped unceremoniously on the floor.

Followed by another photo - her shoes which has obviously been taken off quickly.

Taking a deep breath, Mycroft swiped through the photos a few times trying to figure out what Molly was attempting to tell him.

He was the smart one - of course he was not going to be predictable and simply ask her.

Slipping the phone back in his pocket, having convinced himself Molly was telling him she was home and relieved to have escaped Sherlock’s party with her mascara intact, Mycroft returned Mrs Hudson’s glass to her.

Fifteen minutes later, Mycroft and Greg drifted into the kitchen while discussing the recent spate of serial killings which had been successfully kept out of the media, to fill up their glasses.

Unfortunately, Mycroft had just taken a sip of wine when he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Two more texts containing photos had arrived.

The first showed Molly’s stockings in a tangled ball on the floor only a few feet into her flat.

Seeing the second picture, her dress, now simply a pile of soft burgundy silk a short way away from the stockings, caused Mycroft to double over coughing as the swallow of wine went down the wrong way.

Instantly Greg was clapping Mycroft on the back and asking in a voice filled with shock if the coughing man was okay.

Instinct caused Greg to reach out for both the wine glass and the phone in Mycroft’s hands.

Curiosity caused Greg to look at the phone’s screen when the vibrate alert announced the next text.

The Detective Inspector’s knees buckled and he fell back against the sink. Squinting his eyes closed, he let out his breath.

His coughing fit under control, Mycroft took one look at Greg holding his phone and knew another text had arrived.

Mycroft’s heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his ears as he held out his hand, silently asking for his phone back.

As soon as it hit his palm, the phone vibrated again.

Greg held his breath watching the other man.

A small whimper came from Mycroft and he didn’t put up a fight when Greg took the phone and looked at the screen.

“Squad car’s outside, mate. Get your coat. Looks like you’ve got an anniversary party to go to,” Greg said quietly.

“Sorry folks. Holmes here has a situation he has to deal with. I’ll just drop him off and then be right back,” Greg announced to the room as Mycroft grabbed his coat and left without saying goodbye.


	13. The Nutcracker

“Well. Someone is certainly excited.”

Molly had finished with her hair and makeup, and came out of the bathroom to find Mycroft puttering around the bedroom.

He was freshly showered, shaved and wearing his navy blue suit (Molly’s favourite.)

For the last 23 minutes, Mycroft had been “doing things”: re-arranging his cufflinks by colour, looking for the mates to three rogue socks and organising the books beside his bed in order of desire to read next.

Mycroft was not agitated, or upset by the last 23 minutes. She was not late, she was right on schedule. In fact, what Molly had said earlier was very definitely true: Mycroft was excited.

“Don’t tell me I have finally found a Christmas tradition that you will happily participate in?” Molly’s smile reached her eyes as she unashamedly stared, admiring all the extra care Mycroft had taken in his appearance today.

With a shrug and small smile, Mycroft remained in front of Molly as if waiting for something.

“You, Mycroft Holmes, never cease to amaze me.” She walked over to her side of the bed and opened up the small bag on her nightstand pulling out a delicate strand of pearls. “Who knew you would be so excited to see ‘The Nutcracker!’”

“Mummy and Father took us every year.”

He failed to add that after Mummy stopped insisting her boys went, he still managed to see ‘The Nutcracker’ every December even when it meant sneaking off in the middle of the day by himself if that was all his schedule allowed.

Even though to Mycroft, the ballet was “his Christmas thing,” today he was also looking forward to something else which - after decades of waiting - by his calculations was about to happen any second now.

Watching her intently, his pulse quickened as she moved to stand before him. Looking up at him with her deep brown eyes, Molly innocently asked, “Would you mind helping me with my necklace?”

//

“You called, Mummy?” Still clutching his book, Mycroft entered his parents’ bedroom. His mother was seated at her dressing table, admiring her just finished make-up and hair.

“Ah! Yes, Mycroft, will you help me with my necklace please?”

The 12-year old Mycroft looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“Can’t Father help you, Mummy? I don’t know the first thing about necklaces.”

Mrs Holmes caught her son’s gaze in the mirror as playful scolding could be heard from the nursery followed by a crash. Both smiled. “Your father is trying, I would guess unsuccessfully so far, to convince Sherlock he needs his tie on before we leave for ‘The Nutcracker.’ Now come.” His mother moved, her back now towards the mirror and motioned for him to stand in front of her.

Looking up at her son, Mrs Holmes continued. “Listen to me, Mycroft, not everything about being a gentleman can be learned from books.”

“See. Here is how this sort of clasp works.” Mrs Holmes undid and redid the delicate necklace clasp three times very slowly, while Mycroft watched intently.

“Your turn.” His mother handed him the necklace and suddenly Mycroft felt like he had boxing gloves on.

“It’s okay. Don’t rush. Take your time. Trust me it will be easier for you to learn how to do the various clasps before you have adult-sized hands.”

For once Mycroft believed his mother. After a few minutes of practice, Mrs Holmes turned back towards the mirror and indicated it was time for Mycroft to put the necklace on her. She walked him through opening the clasp, dropping the necklace in front of her neck and then closing the clasp.

Looking up and once again into the dressing table mirror, Mycroft had a huge smile on his face as if he had acquired a very vital skill.

“Well done, dear. Someday you will have a girlfriend and, if she loves you, she will ask you to help her with her necklace.”

“Why?”

“Because men like to feel needed.”

Mycroft nodded even though he didn’t really understand.

//

Over the years, Mycroft continued to help his mother put on her necklaces. She ensured he received practice with a variety of clasps.

When they traveled, Mycroft always offered to help Anthea with her necklaces. Sometimes she would let him; most times not.

As for any of his previous relationships, Mycroft couldn’t remember any necklaces at all.

//

Mycroft’s heart fluttered as Molly handed him the necklace then turned away from him and bent her head forward. Her hair was in a bun with gentle wisps framing her face so she didn’t need to hold her hair back.

“Of course my dear,” he said, savouring this moment he had waited so long for.

In an instant, Mycroft understood exactly his mother’s words from so long ago. It was indeed a delicious feeling to know that he was needed to do something as frivolous as putting on a necklace.

What his mother had neglected to tell him was how tempting it would be to lick and gently suck the base of said girlfriend’s neck after doing up the necklace.

The feel of Mycroft’s lips (was that his tongue!?) on Molly’s neck made her jump and scold Mycroft.

“Hey! That tickles!”

“Good.”

“No time for that now. We’ll be late!” Molly was giggling as she took Mycroft by the hand and led him downstairs.

//

It was during the second half, just as Clara and the Prince arrive in the Land of Sweets that it dawned on Mycroft that his birthday is exactly 39 weeks and 3 days after the usual date in December when his parents would traditionally see ‘The Nutcracker.’


	14. Ice Skating

“Molly? I can’t take it. How much longer?” Mycroft panted through gritted teeth. 

Mycroft was in the middle of Molly’s bed. It was late afternoon and most of Mycroft’s clothes were either on the floor or draped over the chair in front of the radiator. 

“Hang on. I’m almost finished.”

Squinting his eyes closed Mycroft bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out. He was in agony. 

“What is taking you so long?” gasped Mycroft. “It never has taken you this long before.”

“It is taking the usual amount of time. Just relax.” giggled Molly. 

“Relax?!” Mycroft’s eyes opened just enough so he could roll them. “Hardly possible at the moment. I’m about to start begging …”

At this point Molly walked briskly into the bedroom; hot water bottle tucked under her arm, an ice pack in one hand and in the other, a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. 

“Ohthankgodfinally,” Mycroft swallowed hard. Pulling back the blanket Molly winced as she looked at Mycroft’s thigh. He let out a hiss as Molly put the ice pack on the bruise and settled the hot water bottle behind his back. She then helped him take the pills. 

“Anthea said you knew how to ice skate.”

“I can – although, I will admit, a fair bit of alcohol had been consumed before we climbed over the ice rink fence in Davos last year. You might be interested to know that the drunk antics of a certain Chancellor and Tzar aren’t half as distracting as you in that outfit.”

Molly looked down at navy velvet skating dress complete with white faux fur trim and shrugged. “It’s just what I wear when I skate.”

“I suspect you didn’t get that good just having a quick turn round the ice each year in front of the Natural History Museum did you Miss Hooper?” Raising an eyebrow Mycroft looked at Molly standing next to the bed trying, but failing, to look innocent. 

“Hand me my phone. I have a background checker who needs to be fired.”

Molly just kissed Mycroft on the head before she went to make herself a cup of tea and put away her skates properly.


	15. Mince Pies

Mycroft let himself into Molly’s flat after his gentle knock went unanswered.

Once in the flat Mycroft found the air was slightly warmer than usual and filled with the scent of sweet spices. It could only mean one thing … Molly had been making mince pies.

Without even taking his coat off Mycroft walked straight into the kitchen where he found a plate of delicate mince pies lightly dusted with powered sugar, still slightly warm from the oven.

“Just went out to get something. Back soon!” Read the note Molly had signed with two kisses and a smiley face.

Gently plucking a small pie from the plate Mycroft popped the whole thing into his mouth.

He let out an appreciative. moan, the pastry was light and crispy, the filling the right balance of sweet and tart and the spicing was simply perfection.

The second mince pie followed with no thought.

After a slight pause a third was consumed.

Standing, still in his coat now with a light dusting of powered sugar on its lapels, Mycroft contemplated the plate of mince pies and wondered how obvious the missing three would be.

If Molly had made him the mince pies then it wouldn’t matter.

If Molly has intended to give the pies to her elderly neighbour then it would really matter.

There were now only three left.

No question. Molly will notice.

While eating the fourth mince pie Mycroft realised he only had one option.

//

Molly arrived home 10 minutes later to find Mycroft outside of her flat gently knocking on the door.

“Hello darling. Where have you been?” Mycroft asked while Molly opened the door to her flat.

“I baked mince pies this afternoon and I needed some more spices for the next batch. Can I tempt you — cup of tea and a mince pie? Molly smiled at Mycroft.

"Yes. Sounds lovely.” Mycroft was slowly hanging up his coat waiting …

“TOBY!” Molly screamed from the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” Entering the kitchen Mycroft found two mince pies with paw prints in them. Toby has powdered sugar on his whiskers and was looking rather confused while being scolded by Molly.

“Four of them! He ate four of them!” Molly was staring at Toby in disbelief.

“Well, if they were half as good as the house smells I’m sure he couldn’t help himself.” Mycroft gave Molly a sympathetic look — hoping it was convincing.

“I’m just sorry you didn’t get to try one. You said you love mince pies. I made them especially for you.” Molly looked very disappointed.

Toby narrowed his eyes on Mycroft and began hissing and slinking towards him.

“Ah … Perhaps we should go out for a bit. I think Toby might not be feeling so well.” Steering Molly back towards the door, Mycroft managed to get her coat on and the two of them out the door before Toby could blow Mycroft’s cover.


	16. Christmas Carols

It was early evening. Molly and Mycroft were relaxing before they started making dinner. Each had suffered through an exhausting day. As was usual, Molly’s Christmas tree lights were on, as well as the Christmas carols. 

“I have had enough,” said a very grumpy Mycroft as he walked over to Molly’s iPod and removed it from the speakers. “I can not stand to listen to these rediculous songs anymore.”

Watching Mycroft as he fiddled with her iPod Molly sighed. She could complain but she wouldn’t. He had put up with a lot more than she thought he would. 

Moments later the iPod was back in the speaker dock and lovely carol music played by an orchestra filled the room. 

“What’s this?”

“Simply beautiful music with none of those ridiculous words.”

“But the words are the best part!” exclaimed Molly. 

With a sigh Mycroft got up again to make a slight adjustment to the iPod and was back on the couch before the next song began. 

Molly had returned to surfing on her iPad and didn’t notice Mycroft subtlety counting in the first few bars of the next piece of music. 

Suddenly the room was filled with the pure sound of a quiet, strong, and pitch perfect male voice.

All Molly could do was stare (with an open mouth no less) at Mycroft Holmes sitting on her vouch singing ‘Silent Night.' 

After the song finished Mycroft watched as Molly tried to form a sentence. 

“You sing. No idea,” Molly voice was filled with disbelief. 

“Yes,” admitted Mycroft. “Dancing was Sherlock’s passion – singing was mine.”

“That was absolutely beautiful,” sighed Molly as she struggled to come to terms with this new knowledge. 

Mycroft watched Molly’s face gently blush. Her eyes flocked away from his gaze hoping he could not read her mind. 

It was too late. He had. 

“I will be happy to swap Christmas carols for lullabies -when the need arises.” Mycroft dropped this bombshell nonchalantly. 

Biting her bottom lip, Molly tried to keep her embarrassed smile under control as her cheeks burned.


	17. Poor Mycroft is Drunk

Anthea found herself awake in the middle of the night and she wondered why. Rolling over the clock on her bedside table read 2:23a. Suddenly she heard the gentle tap of a small stone hitting her bedroom window.

Getting out of bed she pulled on a robe and went to see what was causing the noise. On the street below stood Mycroft. He had a handful of pebbles and was throwing them, one at a time, at Anthea’s window.

“Mycroft Holmes! What on Earth are you doing?” Hissed Anthea after opening the window.

“Please,” Mycroft was unsteady on his feet, obviously swaying. “Help me.”

“Oh god sir. I’ll be right down.”

Seconds later Anthea opened her door and pulled her boss inside. Half dragging him into her living room she unceremoniously pushed him down onto the couch. When Anthea turned on a table lamp she let out a gasp.

Mycroft’s eyes were red. It was obvious he had been crying. His nose was running and he was, unsuccessfully, digging in his coat pockets looking for his hankie.

“Sir are you hurt?” Anthea was trying to remain calm. It wasn’t working.

“Not hurt. Can’t do this anymore.” Mycroft slurred. 

“Can’t do what? Have you been drinking?”

“Jus' a few. Sherlock’s right. I’m rubbish. Look. Terrible present.” Mycroft thrust the plastic carrier bag at Anthea.“ Don’ wanna be boyfriend anymore. Help me. I don’ know how fix it.” Mycroft looked like he was about ready to cry again. 

Looking into the bag Anthea did her best to hide the look of horror on her face. “Oh sir. Of course.” Anthea put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “It will be okay. I promise.“ 

//

Molly was mostly asleep when she heard the text arrive. Sleepily she rolled over and picked up her phone from her bedside table. 

[SMS: The Boyfriend has had too much Christmas cheer. He’s passed out on my couch. Will return him tomorrow. ] 

Followed quickly by a picture of Mycroft dead asleep on Anthea’s sofa. 

Smiling Molly put the phone down and fell back to sleep.


	18. Office Christmas Party

Returning to his office after his 10:30a appointment Mycroft found a medium size box sitting on his desk. Frowning he called to Anthea as he took off his coat.

“Anthea. What is this box on my desk?”

Appearing at his door with the plastic carrier bag Mycroft had brought to her house in the wee hours of the morning Anthea entered Mycroft’s office.

“It’s a Christmas present for you to give to Molly.”

Anthea set the plastic bag, containing the present Mycroft had purchased for Molly, now beautifully wrapped, on Mycroft’s desk and looked at him with a smile on her face.

“But isn’t this unnecessary considering ….“ Mycroft was looking and pointing at the carrier bag that barely contained the slightly elongated cube box that stood nearly two feet high. 

“On the contrary sir, this is the back-up … in case things don’t go to plan.”

All of the colour drained from Mycroft’s face. “Oh my god. I had not even considered …..” he let the sentence trail off before finishing.

“I know sir. After our discussions about your current situation I have made the requested modification to your original gift but at this point there are still a number of possible outcomes –especially since you haven’t received the green light yet.”

Taking a deep breath Mycroft glanced over at Anthea and then opened the box on his desk. 

It contained a casual cashmere sweater and cashmere lounge pants both in a medium grey.

With a small smile on his face Mycroft looked at Anthea with relief. “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

“Thank you sir. I will wrap it up and have both presents sent to your house.”

“You are still coming to the annual office Christmas party tonight aren’t you?"asked Mycroft trying to hide the little bit of nervousness in his voice.

"I wouldn’t miss it for the world sir,” smiled Anthea as she walked out of his office holding Molly’s Christmas presents.

//

Calling it the ‘office Christmas party’ was a grand label for 'Mycroft and Anthea having dinner before Anthea went on annual leave.’ Tonight Molly joined them in Mycroft’s dining room.

The atmosphere was relaxed. Anthea was now on holiday. Mycroft had taken Anthea’s advice and for the first time in a decade would spend the 24th working from his home office and only check emails (no phone calls) on the 25th and 26th.

After the meal was over when the three were lingering over the last sips of their dessert wine Molly presented Anthea with a small package. Unwrapping it Anthea found a gorgeous black cashmere scarf knitted by Molly.

“It is absolutely perfect,” Anthea gave the other woman a big hug and a smile. “I have something for you too. When I saw it I knew you would love it.” Anthea handed Molly her present and made sure she was not facing Mycroft when Molly unwrapped it.

Molly squeeled with happiness when she opened the box to find a pair of Hello Kitty flannel pyjamas.

//

Molly had already gone upstairs by the time Mycroft was standing at the door helping Anthea with her coat.

“She loved her present,” smiled Mycroft.

“We both knew she would.”

Mycroft let out a big sigh. “Thank you for everything Anthea.”

“You are very welcome sir. You will let me know what happens?”

“Of course.” Mycroft kissed Anthea on the cheek and watched from the doorway until her car left the drive.


	19. Christmas Eve

Mycroft had taken Anthea’s advice and decided to work from home on Dec 24. 

After seeing Molly off (she was working until 4pm), Mycroft retreated to his study.

The present Mycroft had purchased for Molly was sitting in the middle of his desk. Still in the plastic carrier bag, its handles had been stretched and were precariously close to disintegrating. 

Much of his day was spent - in addition his scheduled tasks of pacing, planning, tweaking and second-guessing - with his arms crossed, staring at the gift, trying to guess what Molly’s reaction would be when she opened it. 

At 2:37p a text arrived:

[SMS: Will you be giving Molly her gift tonight? Just want to know when my shoulder will be needed.-SH]

[SMS: Your shoulder will remain dry and unneeded. Present is perfect.-MH]

[SMS: Rubbish boyfriends *always* think the present is good. Tell Molly I’ll see her later ;) -SH]

Mycroft tried to ignore how nervous he was becoming and how quickly the time was now passing. 

At 3:58pm, Mycroft took Molly’s present out of the bag, put it in position and left the study, closing the door behind him. 

//

Arriving at Mycroft’s house shortly after 4pm, Molly was very happy her Christmas break had finally arrived – she had managed to get three days off over Christmas which was almost impossible.

After the two of them had emptied all her things out of the car, Mycroft, standing in his front hall surrounded by various suitcases and bags with presents for her family spilling out of them, drew Molly into a big hug. He closed his eyes and gently rocked her as he sent up a silent prayer, “Please let her not be too angry.”

“What has gotten into you?” Molly was smiling as she pulled out of the embrace and gave Mycroft a questioning look. 

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Must be a symptom of my day spent alone.” He forced a smile as he followed her into the kitchen. 

// 

Dinner that night took at least seventeen hours - Mycroft was sure of it.

Finally, walking hand in hand towards the staircase, he stopped and as casually as he could turned to Molly, “I would like to give you your present now.” He had a list of reasons why at the ready, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

She simply smiled and nodded her head, “Let me get yours,” she replied as she went over to one of the present-filled bags and took out a thin 9-inch square box. “Ready." 

He once again took her hand and walked over to his study. Opening the door, he turned to watch how she would react. 

Her jaw dropped and her eyes were huge. She couldn’t speak and only managed to point with her fingers. 

"I thought you would like it.” So far so good, thought Mycroft smugly. 

“But … where…. when?” Molly had walked over to the large Christmas tree that was positioned in front of the window. It was covered with hundreds of twinkling white lights. She just stood and stared at it in utter amazement.

“It’s Anthea’s. She left for her parent’s house today so she said I could have it. You, of all people Molly Hooper, deserve a Christmas tree on Christmas Eve.”

“I never thought I would see a Christmas tree in this house. You never cease to amaze me, Mycroft Holmes.” Molly was shaking her head and grinning as Mycroft put his arm around her and led her over to the sofa.

She snuggled into him as the two sat on the couch admiring the tree for a few minutes. 

Taking a deep breath and giving him a sweet peck on the cheek, she handed Mycroft his present. Making quick work of the wrapping, he gave a small chuckle when he opened the tissue paper and saw what was inside. He felt like his heart was about to burst. Anthea was right - Molly’s present was delightful, thoughtful and perfect. 

First there was a pair of soft Christmas socks - red cashmere with a Fair Isle band at the top with snowflakes and holly. “I’m not sure you will ever wear them, but I know how your mum is keen on Christmas jumpers and … I thought this might just do the trick.”

Next was a cashmere travel set – socks, eye mask and small blanket in a navy blue. “These are for you in your plane. I know you hate travelling so you might as well be comfortable when you have to do it.” she smiled at him.

"They are wonderful. Absolutely perfect,” beamed Mycroft. “I’m going to wear these socks tomorrow and the other things make me want to plan a trip – although this blanket looks a little small for two … We might have to come up with some other way to keep ourselves warm.”

The blush on her cheeks made his stomach do a flip.

Taking a deep breath, he got off the couch, "Ready for your present?" 

"I thought my present was the tree?”

“No, I just needed something to keep your present somewhere underneath.” Mycroft set the large box in front of her and sat down again on the couch. 

She looked between the box and him before slowing starting to peel back the wrapping paper. 

As he watched the shocked look appear on Molly’s face, Mycroft had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting out laughing. 

“Mycroft Holmes. You bought me a kettle? For Christmas?” She was turning the box over, reading the colourful side panels. 

“Yes,” replied Mycroft proudly.

“Wow. Um. Yea. This is pretty freaky because as boring as this is … I do need a new kettle and this is just the one I wanted … It even has the blue light switch. I was going to pick it up in the sales after Christmas. As expected … It is perfect. Thank you.” Leaning over, Molly gave him a gentle kiss on the lips.

He put his arm around Molly as she once again snuggled into him. The two sighed contentedly watching the twinkling lights on the tree. 

“Just look at us,” she giggled. “I gave you socks. You gave me a kettle. Haven’t even been going out for a year and we are already like an old married couple.”

And there it was. The voice in his head screamed, “THANK YOU!” to whoever was controlling the universe that night.

Mycroft let a small smile pull up the corners of his mouth. He took a deep breath and replied as casually as he could, “We had best make it official. Cuppa tea then, Mrs?" 

Pushing herself away from him, Molly scrunched up her nose and stared at him incredulously. "Did you seriously just ask me to make you a cup of tea?”

“In your new kettle. Yes,” replied Mycroft innocently. 

Rolling her eyes and sighing, but still with a smile on her face, she picked up the box and opened it, taking out the kettle. 

Standing up, she looked back down at him, “You are a cheeky monkey.” He casually positioned himself on the edge of the sofa. 

Molly was frowning at the kettle. As she moved it around, it made a clunking sound … She hit the lid release button and looked inside. 

Luckily Mycroft expertly caught the kettle as Molly dropped it when both her hands flew to her mouth. 

Tipping the ring box out of the kettle into his hand and sliding off the sofa onto one knee, Mycroft looked up at the now trembling Molly. “Why are you so surprised? I said we should make it official.”

This was as far as his brave face took him. 

With shaking hands, he opened the ring box and held it so Molly could see as he turned his blue eyes toward her. 

The lines he had rehearsed over and over earlier in the day which highlighted how Molly completed him, how she made him a better person, how he longed to spend every day with her for the rest of his life, how his making her happy would bring joy into his life, how he could no longer imagine an existence without her in it …. All slipped away, vanished and coalesced into this one moment. All he could hear was the thunder of his heartbeat.

Instead with tears threatening to ruin his composure, “Please Molly. Please, Marry me,” were the only whispered words that came from Mycroft. 

With tears rolling down her cheeks, Molly nodded yes and watched as Mycroft slipped the ring onto her finger.

Just then Molly’s phone started to ring. 

It was Sherlock. 

“Answer it. He doesn’t know but you can tell him,” said Mycroft gently, still on one knee. 

She hit the speakerphone and set the phone on the table.

“Hello,” she said through her tears. 

“Ohmygod. Molly? Has he given you your present? Is that why you are crying? He is a dead man!”

“No Sherlock. It’s fine.I’m okay.”

“You’re crying. It’s not okay. I warned him that he was rubbish at this boyfriend thing. I was right. Making you cry on Christmas Eve. Mummy will be so cross with him.”

“It’s okay, Sherlock. He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

Silence. 

“Sherlock. You were right.” Mycroft was speaking now “I was never a very good boyfriend so I decided to terminate that role.” Luckily Molly’s laughter sounded like sobbing.

“Sherlock. Are you still there?”

“Yes. Look Mycroft, I was not being entirely correct when I told you …”

“Yes, Sherlock, you were completely correct. That is why I have actually decided never to be a boyfriend again.”

“Mycroft … Uh … Perhaps Molly …”

“Molly agrees. She no longer wants to be my girlfriend either. I have offered her a promotion to fiancée. She seems quite happy at the moment.”

Silence. 

“Sherlock? Did you hear me?”

“Yes. Oh god. Mummy is going to be unbearable tomorrow.”

“Goodbye Sherlock." 

"Molly! I know you have said yes … But there is plenty of time to change your mind. Tomorrow –” Mycroft hung up on his brother. 

“About tomorrow …” Mycroft suddenly looked guilty. Very guilty. 

“What have you done? It’s Christmas. I have to go home. Please don’t tell me we are jetting off somewhere. Not that I don’t want to, it’s just …” Mycroft laid a finger over Molly’s mouth to stop the barrage of words that threatened to spill out.

“I made a phone call today. To your mother and your brother. I asked for permission to ask for your hand and one of the stipulations was, if you said yes, I would agree to come to Christmas lunch with you.” Mycroft shrugged his shoulders. 

“Really? You said you were working. That you couldn’t come.” Molly was on the verge of crying again. 

Taking a deep breath, he smiled, “I have learned very recently that boyfriends can work on Christmas but apparently fiancés can’t. It has also been brought to my attention that the same holds true for husbands and fathers. But I’ll cross those bridges when I come to them." 

She leaned over and planted a delicious kiss on Mycroft’s lips. Her kiss was salty from the tears. 

"Wait. There’s more.” Wordlessly she sat back watching as Mycroft took a deep breath and continued. “Late tomorrow afternoon I have arranged for us to go to my parent’s house and spend the night so we can have Boxing Day brunch and walk with them." 

Molly simply raised her eyebrows. 

"I know - baptism by fire. And yes Sherlock will be there. I didn’t let them know beforehand but Sherlock will have told them by now.”

“Anything else?” Molly asked quietly while slipping her hand in Mycroft’s. 

“I suggest we get a good night’s sleep. We have two days of our mothers giving us wedding advice and pressuring us for grandchildren.”

“What a wonderful way to spend Christmas.” whispered Molly. 

“My sentiments exactly,” replied Mycroft.


End file.
